I Only Have Eyes for You
by OpenPage
Summary: Booker has a roving eye and Tom is not impressed. Disclaimer: I do not own 21 Jump Street or any the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.
1. Hell Hath No Fury

The crowded bar was noisy, smoky and in no way what Tom had in mind when he had suggested to Booker that they were in a slump and they should set time aside for a weekly _date night_. When he had made the proposal, he had expected quiet nights in listening to music or dinners at fancy restaurants, but so far, they had experienced the unsavory environment of a pool hall and a night out at a Monster Truck exhibition. To say he was unimpressed would have been an understatement; it appeared Booker was not only adept at getting his own way, he also did not have a single romantic bone in his body. He apparently lacked the ability to think of thoughtful and suitable ideas for the perfect date and the realization pissed Tom off. The younger officer felt trapped in a masculine world of bikes, burritos, and bars and although he enjoyed all of those things, he longed for something more; he wanted Booker to woo him.

A heavy sigh exhaled from between his pouting lips and picking up his drink, he took a large sip of whiskey, the nutty sapidity immediately pleasuring his palate. He was not in the mood to get drunk, but he did feel the need to drink. It was his vague hope that once the alcohol entered his system, he would relax and start to enjoy himself. However, it was a hope kept alive only by the smiling faces around him who all appeared to be having the time of their lives. He knew he should at least _try_ to enjoy himself, but he could not rid himself of the nagging feeling that if he had _his_ way, he would be out of the door _faster than thought or time_ (as Shakespeare had penned in such an eloquent fashion). But for the moment he remained trapped, at least for the next few hours, or until the alcohol fueled Booker's sexual appetite and his lover dragged him out of the bar and back to his apartment for a bit of old-fashioned lovin'.

Because _that_ was the story of his life, it was all about Booker having a good time … and sex, lots and lots of sex. _His_ wants and needs did not appear to enter into the equation anymore, he had, to all intense and purposes, become the silent partner.

Turning his head, his frown deepened when he noticed a licentious smile curling at the edges of Booker's lips. It was obvious that _someone_ had caught his lover's attention and with his curiosity piqued, he followed Booker's line of sight. Instantly his eyes narrowed and his mouth hardened into a firm line. There was no mistaking _who_ had captivated Booker's interest and his hands curled into tight, angry fists. A scantily dressed blond woman with large breasts stood at the edge of the dance floor, her full, cherry-red lips seductively sipping a Mai Tai through a straw. As her hips swayed provocatively in time to the music, her unsupported bosom jiggled invitingly with each flowing movement and her heavily made-up eyes fluttered enchantingly at the crowd, the intentional play for attention working like a charm. Dozens of eyes stared unblinkingly at the erotic display, but when Booker's tongue flicked over his lips, Tom could no longer contain his jealousy and with his face flaming a deep shade of red, he rammed his elbow forcefully into his lover's side.

The sharp jab in his ribs caught Booker off guard and his drink slopped over the rim of his glass and onto his hand. Turning to face Tom, he bit down on his lower lip when he saw the furious look in his lover's eyes. The expression _in flagranti delicto_ popped into his mind and he only just managed to smother a smile. There was no mistaking it, Tom was jealous and even though he had been caught red-handed eyeing off a woman, he refused to feel guilty. He appreciated a beautiful body, both male and female and he would not apologize for having a wandering eye. Not that he would ever take it any farther than that. He was one hundred percent faithful, but in his mind, looking did not constitute cheating; looking was just harmless fun.

Amused by Tom's livid expression, he lifted his hand and licked the drops of whiskey from his skin. He had consumed a few drinks and he could not resist poking fun at his lover for being envious of a woman. "Aw, c'mon, Hanson," he teased with a grin. "Are you telling me you don't miss it? The soft curves, the voluptuous breasts, the moist—"

Tom, however, was in no mood for games. "Enough!" he snapped, his dark eyes flashing angrily. "If you crave tits so much, maybe you're in the wrong relationship."

From the moment he had met Tom, Booker had become proficient at pushing his buttons and he took great delight in needling him whenever the opportunity presented itself. But as he looked into his lover's flushed face, he wondered if he had taken the taunting too far. The green-eyed monster had surfaced in all its rampant glory and it puzzled him to know that Tom could feel such a futile emotion. His lover was a complex character; private and detached one minute, open and warm the next, and on the odd occasion, volatile and insecure. Their relationship was an emotional roller coaster, which was just the way he liked it; he never knew from one day to the next what would happen. But, at that precise second in time, he knew _exactly_ what the outcome would be if he did not desist and, therefore, he decided to back off … if only for a moment.

Reaching out, he attempted to engage his lover by cupping his face in his hand, but Tom moodily turned his head. Sighing in frustration, he tried again and this time he made contact with the smooth cheek. "Aw, don't be like that, baby, I was only foolin' around. I didn't mean anything by it."

Tom's lower lip pushed into a sulky pout. "But I saw you eyeing her up," he replied in an irritable tone. "You were lusting after her."

It had only taken a matter of minutes for their conversation to teeter precariously on the edge of a full-blown argument and Booker knew he needed to tread warily. However, he was not about to let Tom emotionally blackmail him into apologizing for being a red-blooded bisexual male and he cast a final furtive glance at the woman before looking him in the eye. "I wasn't _lusting_ after her," he explained with a cheeky grin. "I was _appreciating_ her. You've gotta admit, she's pretty hot."

Tom blew out his lips in an exaggerated _pfft_ and rolling his eyes in disgust, he turned his head away and glared gloomily into the crowd. "If you like that sort of thing," he muttered childishly.

Without realizing it, Tom had given Booker the opening he needed to stir the pot just a little more and with dancing eyes, the dark-haired officer unwittingly delivered what was to be the final blow. "Sorry, Tommy, but I do. If I were single, my face would be buried between those soft, inviting—"

His lover's admission was too much for Tom and fueled with an explosive anger, he slammed his glass down on the bar with such force, whiskey splashed over the edge, spotting the polished wood. "FUCK YOU!" he screamed into his lover's smirking face and snatching his jacket from the back of the bar stool, he barged blindly through the crowd of carefree _twenty-somethings_ and out the door, leaving Booker wondering if he had just made a monumental mistake.

 _ **Four days later – 10.08 a.m.**_

Booker flopped down in his chair and stared despondently at Tom's empty desk. The two men had barely spoken since their disastrous _date_ at the club; partly because Tom had eagerly volunteered to go on a stakeout and partly because neither man was willing to admit he was wrong. Booker was astute enough to know Tom was avoiding him; his lover hated stakeouts almost as much as he now appeared to hate attractive, busty women. He also knew he should apologize, but admitting his faults and voicing his regrets were sentiments he struggled with, especially since _coming out_. Living life as an openly bisexual man had toughened him both mentally and physically. The disapproval of his parents, the constant teasing in high school, the disdainful looks in the Police Academy and the curiosity of his co-workers had all played a part in changing his personality. As a child, he had been happy, bright and openly friendly, but over the years, he slowly built a psychological wall to protect himself from the abuse and now he found it difficult to connect with others emotionally. But then he had met Tom, who was still finding it difficult to come to terms with his bisexuality and was reluctant to disclose his sexual proclivities to his friends, and everything had changed. In less than a month of secretly dating, he had found himself revealing his true nature to his lover, the softer, more amenable side of his personality. However, he still had a long way to go before the character traits of his childhood overrode those that had become ingrained in his adulthood and admitting he was in the wrong was something he still found almost impossible to do, even if the person he had hurt was Tom. He was well aware that his ego was his biggest obstacle in life, but he had yet to reach a level of maturity where he could cast aside his insecurities and live comfortably within his own skin, and, therefore, he was unable to tell Tom that he had behaved like an ass and he was sorry.

A restless sigh expelled from between his pursed lips and picking up a pile of paperwork, he moved it to the other side of his desk, revealing a blue envelope tucked beneath his worn desk blotter. A puzzled frown creased his brow and picking up the sealed letter, he stared at his name scribbled across the front in Tom's untidy hand. With his interest now sufficiently aroused, he carelessly ripped open the envelope and a door key tumbled out onto his desk. His eyebrows rose in surprise and grabbing hold of the key, he slowly turned it over in his fingers before placing it back on his desk and pulling out the small scrap of paper that had accompanied it. His hand shook slightly as he unfolded the note and read the brief message Tom had written in his distinctive scrawl.

 ** _My place, 7 o'clock tonight. Let yourself in._**

 ** _Tom_**

The message was intriguing in its vagueness and a shiver passed through his body, hardening his cock and causing his stomach to flip-flop with a hot desire. Being a _cup half-full_ type of person, he pushed aside the worrying thought that perhaps Tom wanted to end their relationship. After all, who left a key for their lover when their sole intention was to break up? However, the nagging doubt hovered disturbingly in the back of his mind, refusing to leave completely and it made concentrating on his paperwork difficult. He longed for the working day to finish so he could unravel the true nature of Tom's cryptic note.

 ** _Five hours later_**

Tom stood naked in his bathroom, a disposable razor held in the fingers of his trembling hand. He felt guilty about his behavior at the bar and he desperately wanted to make everything right. He loved Booker, but their relationship was floundering and if he did not take drastic measures, their affair would be over before it had begun.

However, to fix what he perceived to be wrong within their relationship, he needed to give his lover what he so obviously craved and that meant taking extreme measures, even if he had to humiliate himself in the process.


	2. Ooo, Baby, Baby!

_**Four hours later**_

Standing outside Tom's apartment with the key in his hand, Booker was surprised at how nervous he felt. All day, the annoying little voice had persistently whispered in his ear that he might suddenly find himself mourning the loss of the man he loved, and now that he was about to face Tom, cold tendrils of panic chilled his heart. No matter how hard he tried, he had been unable to rid himself of the undesirable thought that Tom might have invited him over to inform him he wanted to end their relationship, even though common sense dictated that given the circumstances of their arranged meeting, the likelihood of that happening was slim to zero. However, what he did know was that he could not lose Tom; the young officer was his everything and if his stupid macho display at the club proved to be the catalyst for their breakup, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Never.

Several long seconds passed until he finally found the nerve to insert the key and turn it in the lock. His hand hesitated for a moment before he pushed open the door and staring into the darkness, he attempted to steady his nerves. Although he had been to Tom's home many times, he was still unfamiliar with the overall layout and with his heart hammering heavily in his chest, he entered cautiously through the doorway.

"Er, Tommy?" he sang out hesitantly.

A soft voice sounded from the far end of the living room. "The light switch is by the door, on the right."

Booker's brow knitted together. The voice did not sound like Tom's and immediately the hairs on the back of his neck rose to attention. Something was not right, in fact, he was starting to think that something was very, very wrong.

With his senses on high alert, his fingers fumbled over the wall until he located the switch and preparing himself for an attack, he flicked on the light.

An attractive blond woman sat on Tom's couch, her shapely legs crossed demurely in front of her and her fuchsia lips curled into a welcoming closed-mouthed smile. "Hello, Dennis," she murmured softly.

Booker's eyes widened when the woman addressed him by name and he suddenly felt as though he was in the twilight zone. He had no idea who the woman was or what was happening, but his first priority was for Tom's safety and closing the door, he took a step forward. "Look, lady, I don't know who you are or why you're here, but you'd better tell me where Tommy is or—"

The woman emitted an unladylike snort and her mouth split into a familiar, tilting grin. "Take a closer look, Dennis," she giggled, her long, mascara coated lashes fluttering seductively.

Blood pounded in Booker's ears and taking a step closer, he peered into the woman's elegantly made-up face. At first, there was no recognition, but when he gazed into the soft, chocolate brown eyes, his eyebrows shot up in surprise and his eyes widened in disbelief. "Tommy?"

Tom's grin widened and he laughed softly. "So, what do you think? Am I _hot_ enough for you?"

Booker's lustful gaze wandered slowly over Tom's body, studying him from head to toe. The blond, bob styled wig curled flatteringly around his attractive face. His makeup was subtle, yet stylish; expertly applied eyeliner emphasizing his expressive eyes, pink lipstick staining his full, pouty lips and a sweep of blusher highlighting his cheekbones, the soft color defining his perfect features. He was exquisite in the beauty of his gender fluidity, but the wonderment did not stop there. Dressed in a pale blue sweater and a pencil skirt, Tom cut a fine figure in the body-hugging clothing and Booker's eyes roved salaciously over the two small bumps molded beneath the tight knitwear. The sight was so erotic, his cock hardened instantly and a small moan escaped from between his lips.

"This is what you want … _right?_ " Tom whispered in a husky voice and standing up, he took hold of Booker's hand and placed it against his padded chest. "This is what you miss?"

"Oh, baby," Booker groaned excitedly and placing his free hand on the nape of Tom's neck, he guided him forward and tenderly pressed his lips against his lover's painted pout. As their tongues danced an erotic tango, he moved his hand downwards and cupping Tom's shapely buttock, he squeezed it playfully. "Mmm," he murmured against the bow of his lover's lips.

Tom smiled into the kiss and sucking lovingly on the soft flesh of Dennis' lower lip, he slowly pulled away and gazed adoringly into his lover's dark eyes, waiting for him to answer his question. Seconds passed and Booker's hand continued to rove over Tom's buttocks, but his voice remained silent.

"Dennis?" Tom prompted.

The soft allure of Hanson's voice amplified Booker's lustful hunger and his greedy gaze traveled over his lover's taut body. "Jesus," he moaned, "you have no idea how much you're turning me on right now."

Tom's smile slowly faded and his dark eyes became troubled. "Because I look like a woman?" he asked sadly.

"Baby, no!" Booker exclaimed softly. " _You_ turn me on … _You_. You could dress in a burlap sack and you'd still be the sexiest man alive to me. I _love_ you and I'm so sorry about what happened at the club, I behaved like a jerk."

Although somewhat reassured by Booker's words, Tom was not wholly convinced. "But you were lusting after that woman," he stated quietly, "and you said you missed being with a female."

Cupping Tom's face in his hands, Booker kissed him lovingly. "I _like_ women, Tommy, you know that," he explained gently, "but _you're_ the one I love and I promise you, I'd never cheat on you … never."

A pink flush stained Tom's cheeks and he tugged awkwardly at the tight skirt hugging his slender hips. "I feel pretty stupid," he admitted with a self-conscious smile.

Booker's eyes flashed with arousal. "Are you kidding me?" he whispered, his hands once again roving over Tom's hard body. "Role play could be just what we need to keep the spice in our relationship."

Tom's tilting smile returned. "Are you telling me you've _fantasized_ about me dressing like a woman," he teased softly.

"Maybe," Booker admitted with a cheeky grin and squeezing Tom's butt cheek, the tip of his tongue darted out and licked salaciously over his lips. "Are you wearing lace panties?" he asked in a hoarse voice, his eyes flashing with excitement.

A seductive smile played over Tom's rose-tinted lips and tipping his head on one side, his eyes twinkled enticingly as he battered his long, thick lashes. "Why don't you put your hand up my skirt and find out."

" _Fuuuck_ ," Booker breathed and grabbing hold of Tom's hand, he pulled him towards the bedroom.

"Wait!" Tom laughed, his heeled court shoes causing him to stumble.

Booker paused long enough for Tom to kick off his shoes before dragging him into the bedroom and pushing him down onto the bed. Biting down provocatively on his lower lip, Tom gave a coy smile and held his hand out invitingly. "C'mere."

With an excited growl, Booker climbed on top of Tom and kissed him forcefully. Teeth and tongues clashed as their passion intensified and pushing open Tom's legs, Booker's fingertips began to trail over the flesh of his inner thigh. But he stopped abruptly and breaking the kiss, he gazed down at Tom in astonishment. "You shaved your legs?"

Tom's eyebrows waggled playfully. "I shaved _everywhere_ ," he confided in a soft whisper.

The confession was too much for Booker and sitting up, he straddled Tom's lower legs. His broad chest heaved with excitement and taking hold of the hem of Tom's skirt, he slowly pushed the material upwards and inch by inch, he exposed a little more of the soft, smooth flesh of his lover's legs. With trembling hands, he pushed a little further until he revealed a pair of black lace panties, the silky material barely covering the noticeable bulge of Tom's hardening cock. "Oh, baby," he whispered and dropping to his hands, he ducked his head and mouthed lightly over the scant material, his warm breath twitching Tom's cock to life.

With a moan, Tom's eyes fluttered closed and his long fingers entwined in his lover's dark, unruly hair. "Oh, yeah," he moaned softly, his body squirming beneath the titillating touch. "Oh, _Dennis_."

"Do you like that, beautiful?" Booker breathed against Tom's panty-clad groin, his tongue sweeping over the intricate lace. "Are you getting hard?"

" _Yesss_ ," Tom gasped, his hips rising off the mattress. "God, yes!"

Booker's lips hovered tantalizingly close to Tom's growing bulge. "Take off the sweater," he instructed softly.

"Dennis, please," Tom implored, the timbre of his voice rising in desperation. "I'm _so_ fucking hard!"

"Do it," Booker demanded quietly, his dominant personality coming to the fore. "I wanna see what you're wearing underneath."

Tom's face flushed a flattering shade of pink and taking a deep breath, he grabbed hold of the bottom of the thin sweater and pulled it over his head, discarding it onto the floor. Within seconds, Booker had yanked off his skirt, leaving him dressed in only a bra and panties and he immediately felt embarrassed and exposed. But when he looked up into Booker's face, he did not see the ridicule he had expected. Instead, his lover's eyes shone with a depth of love that had his heart racing with excitement. It had been a long time since he had seen such an intense look of devotion in his lover's eyes and even though he felt slightly embarrassed, he knew it was worth the humiliation. He had his Booker back and nothing else mattered.

Dennis remained mesmerized by the erotic sight laid out before him. "Christ," he whispered under his breath, his dark eyes gazing in wonderment at Tom's semi-naked body. "You're ... so ... fucking ... gorgeous."

The heat flaming at Tom's face intensified, but his bashfulness was quickly forgotten when Booker ducked his head and sucked on his cock through the lace material. "More," he moaned, his fingers tugging lightly at his lover's dark hair.

Smiling against the hard mound, Booker flicked his tongue over Tom's cockhead. "Do you want me to suck you, baby?" he teased softly.

Tom was so hard, the flimsy black material barely contained his erection. " _Yesss_ ," he whimpered, "I need it Dennis … oh _God_ , I need it!"

A lascivious grin spread over Booker's face. His own cock was straining against his denims, demanding attention and he wondered how long he would be able to hold out before he blew his load. The sight of Tom dressed in a black lace bra and panties, was the most stimulating sight he had ever seen and he felt overcome with emotion knowing that his lover was willing to dress as a woman just to please him. However, the self-sacrificing act only served to emphasize how selfishly he had behaved. He knew he was guilty of taking their relationship for granted and not bestowing the love and attention on Tom that he deserved. Hanson was his world and he made a silent vow not to allow him to feel that level of desperation ever again … never.

With shaky hands, he slowly pulled down the lace material, revealing not only Tom's burgeoning cock, but also a freshly shaved pubic area and his eyes widened in surprise. He had thought Hanson was joking when he had stated that he had shaved _everywhere_ , but it now appeared he was not. His slim, taut body was smooth and hairless, and the erogenous sight only added to Booker's arousal. He felt like a kid in a candy shop; he was in carnal heaven.

Tossing the discarded panties to the floor, he positioned himself between Tom's bent knees and pushing open his legs, he traced a teasing finger up the underside of his erection. "Oh, baby," he murmured seductively, his dark eyes twinkling with desire. "I'm gonna suck you so hard, you're gonna pop like warm champagne."

Tom's long, black lashes fluttered attractively against his cheeks and his hips rocked forward urgently. "Less talking," he chided with a moan, "I wanna feel your lips around me."

"Cheeky," Booker admonished softly and lowering his head, he swept his tongue up the length of Tom's shaft. "In case you've forgotten, Hanson, _I'm_ the one in charge."

An amused smile twitched at the corners of Tom's lips and opening his eyes, he placed a finger under Booker's chin and tilted his head upwards until they made eye contact. "In your dreams, _Officer_ Booker," he crooned. "This is _my_ game and I make the rules … got it?"

Although he did not think it was possible, Booker's cock lengthened even more and he groaned softly. "Whatever you say, baby," he acquiesced and ducking his head, he flicked his tongue over the tip of Tom's smooth cockhead.

"That's it," Tom groaned, his fingers tangling in his lover's hair, "taste me, Dennis, I want you to taste me and then I want you to fuck me."

A low growl resonated deep within Booker's chest and moistening his lips, he pressed them against Tom's slit and sucked. Long fingers tugged at his hair, the sharp pain in his scalp adding to his arousal and as he licked and sucked at the saliferous precum leaking from Tom's cock, he fumbled at his zipper. But to his horror, as soon as his fingers made contact with his cock, a shiver of excitement ran down the length of his body and with a cry, he ejaculated over his fingers.

Lifting his head, he stared down at his softening cock in dismay. "Shit," he whispered in disbelief. "Shit, shit, shit, shit …"

Disappointed by the loss of contact, Tom struggled to his elbows and stared at Booker in surprise. "Jesus," he muttered when he realized what the problem was. "How did _that_ happen?"

Booker's cheeks flushed a deep red. "I don't know," he groaned in embarrassment. "I mean, I haven't done _that_ since I was about fourteen. Fuck! Why did it have to happen now?"

Tom felt Dennis' pain, but his own cock lay almost flat against his stomach, craving attention and reaching out a hand, he gently caressed his lover's cheek. "I guess I really _am_ hot," he teased softly.

Although devastated, Booker managed a tiny smile. "I'm _really_ sorry," he lamented, his dark eyes filling with shame. "I ruined everything."

Placing a hand on the nape of Booker's neck, Tom pulled him forward and kissed him tenderly. "No, you haven't," he murmured against the soft flesh of his lover's pout. "We can still have some fun."

Kneeling back on his haunches, Booker gazed down at Tom's impressive erection. "Yes, we can," he grinned and without warning, he dropped onto his hands and capturing Tom's cock between his lips, he swallowed him whole.

Shocked by the unexpected erotic sensation, Tom's head fell back against the pillow and shooting his hips forward, he rammed his cock deep into Booker's throat. "FUCK!" he yelled and grabbing a fistful of his lover's hair, he began to thrust his cock frantically in and out of the warm, moist mouth.

"Ah ah ah ah ah …" he cried softly as Booker's full lips slid over his thick shaft. "So good … it feels … _so_ … fucking … good."

Slowing his pace, Booker leisurely moved his lips up Tom's length before swirling his tongue enticingly around the smooth cockhead.

"Don't stop," Tom whimpered, his body squirming in desperation. "I'm close, Dennis, I'm so fucking close!"

Booker's jet black eyes shone brightly. The sight of Tom dressed only in a black lacy bra, his leaking cock laying flat against his taut belly, was something he would never forget and he soaked in the erotic vision laid out before him. "I _love_ you," he whispered, his voice hitching with emotion and ducking his head, he took Tom into his mouth and began to hum.

The soft vibration against his cockhead pushed Tom over the edge and with a cry, his hips shot forward and ramming his cock against the back of Booker's throat, he ejaculated forcefully. A full body tremor racked his slender body, sending jolts of electricity through his nerve endings and he continued to pump his softening cock between Booker's moist lips until he was spent. Closing his eyes, he relaxed against the pillow, his chest rising and falling heavily as he enjoyed the sensation of his lover lapping and sucking at his dwindling erection and when a forceful tongue parted his lips, he reveled in the tangy taste of his own semen transferring from Booker's saliva to his own. It was the moment he cherished most, the post-climactic calm when he felt safe and loved, and he knew there would never be another because Booker was his soul mate and they would be together forever.

Eventually, their kiss became sloppy and pulling away, Booker wrapped an arm around Tom's waist and pulling him in close, he pushed a hand under his bra and lazily played with his nipple. "Happy?" he inquired softly.

Tom kissed the top of Booker's head. "Perfectly."

A comfortable silence hung in the air before Booker spoke in a soft, teasing voice. " _Sooo_ , next time I was thinking you could wear a négligée."

Tom stared down at Booker. "Next time?" he queried with raised eyebrows. "Who says there's gonna be a next time?"

"Oh, there's _definitely_ gonna be a next time," Booker insisted with a laugh as he playfully nuzzled against Tom's neck, "even if I have to get on my hands and knees and beg."

Tom's eyelids fluttered closed and he exhaled a sleepy sigh. "I like the idea of you on your hands and knees," he murmured drowsily.

Lifting his head, Booker kissed Tom tenderly on the cheek. "Then it's a date."

 _Finis_


End file.
